


New York Minute

by Wicked_Seraph



Category: Banana Fish (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Brotherly Bonding, Developing Relationship, Drabbles, Grief/Mourning, Love, M/M, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-18
Updated: 2019-03-18
Packaged: 2019-11-23 11:15:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18151139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wicked_Seraph/pseuds/Wicked_Seraph
Summary: A collection of drabbles, with no specific theme, written for Banana Fish.Most were written in response to the following challenge: "Reply with a prompt + ship or character, and I'll write a tweet-length drabble."There were a few others that I wrote on a whim, either from CC prompts or idle curiosity. In either case, I hope you enjoy! :)[ This is a work in progress; I'll update each respective chapter with new additions rather than posting new chapters.]





	1. Bite (tweet-length)

 

Ash's beauty is the flash of color on a viper's scales, a slow smile as a knife withdraws from its holster. Green eyes like absinthe, like bile, like jade.

"You're nothing like him," Max murmurs.

"Would you like me to be?"

Max is silent, but his eyes darken with uncertainty.

  
**- Prompt: MaxAsh - can be shippy or explore the paternal side of their bond || 22 Jan 2019**

* * *

 

Ash’s death ignited a selfish black fire in Eiji, one that stole breath, gulped down Sing’s confused pleasure like nectar.

Eiji’s lips branded him, teeth nipping and snarling until Sing’s flesh was speckled with violet.

“You can’t have him,” Eiji crooned - to ghosts, to demons.

 

**\- Prompt: Sing and Eiji, GoL || 22 Jan 2019**

* * *

 

 He used to wear fingerless gloves, hiding the proof of his failure, the reminder of a knife and yellow cowardice. Cain tsked at him softly, eyes understanding.

"These scars tell a story, even if it's just vengeance," Cain whispered.

Arthur smiled, tearing the gloves in twain.

 

**\- Prompt: Arthur/Cain || 22 Jan 2019**

* * *

 

“What’s poetry?” Aslan asks.

Griffin thinks for a moment, scratching his beard.

“It’s a song, except only you can hear the music.”

Aslan’s smile brightens as he nestles shyly against Griffin’s side.

“Is that what love feels like?”

“Love is poetry of the heart,” he replies.

 

**\- Prompt: Brotherly Griffin and Ash sweetness || 22 Jan 2019**

* * *

 

"This whiskey tastes like shit," Griffin muttered with a scowl.

Max, grinning too quickly to be noticed, closed the distance between them, running a tongue along the seam of Griffin's mouth.

"I dunno," he says, licking his lips with the ghost of a wink. "Tastes sweet to me."

 

**\- Prompt: Max/Griffin || 22 Jan 2019**

* * *

 

Ash's smile is wicked, Eiji's angelic. Both are unbearably warm, leaving nothing unmarked, unclaimed.

Ash's eyes light up with mischief, and Sing's voice drops to a growl just shy of warning.

"You wouldn't."

"No, but I would," Eiji whispers, licking the shell of his ear.

 

**\- Prompt: Ash/Eiji/Sing || 22 Jan 2019**

* * *

 

They found one another in the quiet spaces where Ash once lingered, weaving new memories in those corners where the fabric of their lives lay tattered.

Student. Brother. Son. Friend. Lover.

Between them, Ash's ghost remained whole, sublimated through tenuous gossamer threads.

 

**\- Prompt: Blanca/Max/Eiji || 22 Jan 2019**

* * *

 

Sing and Eiji fulfill different needs.

Sing is reverent and gentle, overflowing sweetness when Yue wants to feel cherished.

Eiji is dark, unreadable eyes, a close-lipped smile hiding fangs wanting nothing more than to tear into his flesh.

Yue bares his neck, happy to oblige.

 

**\- Prompt: Eiji/Yut-Lung/Sing || 22 Jan 2019**

* * *

 

“Hey, pretty boy,” Shorter drawls. “Do you even know how to play?”

Yue’s hands, fair and tiny, hold the controller like a refined instrument.

Sing’s face flushes, debating whether he should defend Yue or let him do it himself.

Yue smirks.

“Sing’s never beaten me in Smash.”

 

**\- Prompt: Yut-Lung, Shorter, and Sing || 22 Jan 2019**

* * *

 

"Do you miss him?" Eiji asked, fingers carding idly through Blanca's hair. How foreign it was; black where Ash's was gold, coarse where Ash's had been silken.

"No," he said quietly. The warm hand caressing the small of Eiji's back, hesitant and lingering, said differently.

 

**\- Prompt: Blanca/Eiji || 22 Jan 2019**

* * *

 

"Breathtaking," Blanca sighs, running his hands through Eiji's hair as he was enveloped in sweet heat, almost painful in its pleasure.

"Beautiful," Sing agreed. The body beneath him was warm and pliant, sinfully inviting.

"Mine," Eiji murmurs, welcoming - demanding - them both.

 

**\- Prompt: Blanca/Sing/Eiji during _Garden of Light_ || 22 Jan 2019**

* * *

 

Ash had never been one to believe in things unseen, but something about Eiji defied explanation.

Fingers ran through his hair and calmed the shrieking chaos. Warmth cast out the murky blackness.

Witchcraft, magic -- somehow, Eiji could exorcise the demons that plagued him _._

 

**_-_ Prompt: Ash/Eiji + magic || 22 Jan 2019**

* * *

 

Pink things disappeared as quickly as they appeared, extant only in memories.

Pink lemonade with a shared straw. Pink flush when warmth lingered just a fraction too long. Pink blanket, under which they basked in shared heat.

Pink lips uncertain but curious, brief but treasured.

 

**\- Prompt: Ash/Eiji/Sing + pink || 22 Jan 2019**

* * *

 

Sing dreamed of blond hair and a secretive smile, lips that made his pulse quicken when he imagined what they might feel like. He'd never held Ash's hand, but he liked to imagine the fingers were warm & calloused.

But then the dream died, and Sing was left to fill in the blanks.

 

**\- Prompt: Sing/Ash || 22 Jan 2019**

* * *

 

Blanca coughed, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth.

"Skin like pale moonlight," Blanca murmured, reaching a trembling hand towards Yue's cheek. Yue, eyes moist with unshed tears, bit into his wrist and brought the crimson fount to Blanca's lips.

"Drink," he begged.

 

**\- Prompt: Blanca/Yut-Lung + vampires || 22 Jan 2019**

* * *

 

"Such a tame little kitten," Arthur murmured, trailing a finger gently along Eiji's jaw.

He expected trembling, dark eyes flickering to avoid his gaze. What he did not expect was a cocky smirk that made his heart skip a beat.

"Be careful," Eiji whispers. "This one bites."

 

**\- Prompt: Arthur/Eiji || 22 Jan 2019**

* * *

 

Shorter knew immediately when Ash fell in love.

Normally Ash was all clashing teeth and demanding tongue, leaving Shorter weak-kneed and breathless.

Except one day Ash’s lips become soft and exploratory, gentle in a way Shorter knows isn’t meant for him; Ash melts in his arms.

 

**- Prompt: Ash/Shorter || 22 Jan 2019**

* * *

 

Shorter had coaxed light into his eyes and reminded him that even his tiny hands could cradle warm, living things. Shorter had reminded him that shadows only existed because of the the sun's brilliance.

Ash knew he had a heart; he had felt it shatter beneath his ribcage.

 

**\- Prompt: Ash/Shorter + loss || 5 March 2019**

* * *

Sing had described Ash, the mysterious "A" in Eiji's pictures, as beautiful, with blond hair and eyes like jade.

Akira couldn't help but feel a twinge of envy.

That is, until she saw the way he regarded others, how fiercely he watched over Eiji.

<<Ah, so that's how it is.>>

 

 **\- Prompt: Ash lives, therefore he also gets to meet Akira when she visits America + sympathy || 5 March 2019**

* * *

 

*snip*

"Yue, are you sure you wanna do this? Once it's gone, it's gone."

Sing held the scissors in his hands uncertainly, face pale and anxious as a long lock of black hair fluttered to the ground.

Yut-Lung nodded, already feeling more buoyant.

"That's what I'm counting on."

 

**\- Prompt: Yut-Lung + endings || 5 March 2019**

* * *

 

He could feel it trembling somewhere beneath his ribcage, drinking in the poisonous grief and Sing's sweetness pooled around it.

He knows the moment it emerges from the soil. He feels in the way his heart flutters when Sing's lips brush his, warmth awakening from its slumber.

 

**\- Prompt: Sing/Eiji + rebirth theme || 5 March 2019**

* * *

 

Eiji stirred the eggs briskly, adding chives with a flick of his wrist.

"You're quite an accomplished cook," Blanca remarked.

"Anyone can make scrambled eggs."

Blanca said nothing as he drank his coffee, remembering burnt eggs and an angry blond glaring at the frying pan.

 

**\- Prompt: Eiji and Blanca || 5 March 2019**

* * *

 

"You're terrible at this."

Blanca looked over his attempt at a sandcastle with a grimace. The crumbling walls were warped from the indent of his fingers.

"Apologies, sir. I'm more accustomed to snow."

Ash grinned, shoving Blanca aside.

"Move over, I'll show you how its done."

 

**\- Prompt: Blanca and Ash playing on the beach || 5 March 2019**

* * *

 


	2. Brunch (shorts)

"I'm sorry, but what did you say your name was?"   
  
The blond barely spared him a glance, his stride brisk and light in a way that made his heart clench.   
  
"Sei."   
  
"I... well. Sing's told me so much about you. It's nice to finally have a face to put with a name."   
  
At this Sei stopped, curiosity overriding his practiced disinterest. He settled onto a bench, gesturing for Eiji to join him.   
  
"Sing, huh? How did a guy like you meet someone like him?" Sei's tone was even but bright with barely-disguised delight.   
  
*He really respects him, doesn't he?*, Eiji thought.   
  
Eiji laughed, tucking a loose strand of hair behind his ears. Even after more than a decade, the tendril that wound around his heart would tighten at the memory.   
  
"We met a long time ago, you see. Sing was just a tiny little thing back then. We... had a mutual friend."   
  
Eiji's lips twisted. Sei's eyes were the wrong color and shape, but Eiji still felt a familiar intensity; something within him instinctively leaned into it, drinking in warmth from a flame that others feared would consume them.  
  
"He was a lot like you."

 

**\- Prompt: Eiji meeting Sei from Yasha || 13 March 2019**

* * *

Yut-Lung knew rage when he saw it.   
  
Nadia still smiled and bowed, still addressed him by the same honorifics in Cantonese polite enough to cause Sing’s cheeks to redden. Their tea cups remained full, refilled only when bitter dregs lurked at the bottom. Nadia’s tone was bland and respectful, her smile toothless and her lips a perfect cupid’s bow.   
  
She would never be violent or foolish enough to brew tea with nightshade or sprinkle his food with rat poison, to say nothing of the fact that he would have known immediately if she tried.   
  
Nadia’s rage was something more terrifying than wrath, reminiscent of a dragon lulled to sleep by the warmth of its own fury. Nadia’s eyes were empty, devoid of the sweetness that he’d taken for granted as a teenager drunk on fantasies of revenge. They were twin voids lined with razor wire, dragging him in and daring him to beg for release.   
  
He wouldn’t. He had borne witness to grief far more potent than this, and knew that he deserved every ounce of venom directed towards him.   
  
Nadia’s tea wasn’t poisoned but rather terribly bitter, lacking the honey or sugar he knew she could have added to reduce the bite; he knew that she’d intentionally allowed the tea to steep long enough for tannins to spoil it. The soup was edible but bland, lacking the array of flavor profiles and spice he knew she could have added. Their table was clean but lacked the seasonal flower arrangement that adorned every other table in the restaurant.   
  
Nadia’s wrath was the silence of winter, trees denuded and reaching fruitlessly for rains that wouldn’t come, frozen lakes hoarding their warmth beneath the surface.   
  
“I don’t think she’s still angry with you,” Sing said, his voice musical with the lie it carried. Yut-Lung’s smile was humorless, content to let Sing pretend that deception was a caress rather than yet another razor grazing his cheek.

 

**\- Prompt: Post-series/pre-GoL. Yut-Lung insist on going to eat at Chang Dai, Sing accompanies him. Nadia is there. || 13 March 2019  
**

* * *

“How do these look?”   
  
Eiji looked up at Ash hopefully, eyes wide and expectant. Ash was quiet, head tilted as he tapped his chin thoughtfully.   
  
“They’re not bad… but they’re not _you_ ,” he supplied cryptically, turning towards the brightly-lit display to find a pair of frames to replace the ones perched on Eiji’s nose, now wrinkled in confusion.   
  
“’Not me’? They’re glasses,” Eiji said, trying to hide a sigh as his patience wore thin. Generally, he appreciated Ash’s keen eye for style and aesthetics. Ash seemed to know instinctively what types of colors and cuts of clothing flattered him – though never without an inordinate amount of time invested in finding them.   
  
Ash favored plain t-shirts and washed-out jeans with worn knees, but seemed to take great pleasure in using his ill-gotten wealth to play dress-up with Eiji. Eiji knew how to calculate American dollars into yen, but more than once found himself wondering if his math was off – there was no way there should be so many zeroes before the decimal point. He had learned to stop asking questions when Ash would beam at him, carefully dodging the question by pointing out how muscular Eiji looked in slim cuts, how mature he looked in cobalt.   
  
“They’re not just glasses. ‘Eyes are the window to the soul’ and all that jazz, so you can’t go framing them with lousy shutters,” Ash said absently before veritably pouncing on a dark black pair of frames.   
  
“Try these!” he said, his tone uncharacteristically bright. Eiji obliged him before his breath caught in his throat.   
  
He had worried about how he might look with glasses – always had, as he’d heard too many classmates mocked for _megan_ e to feel that he’d fare any better.   
  
The sleek black frames on his face, however were perfect. His eyes weren’t obscured, instead accentuated and highlighted. They seemed to slim his face, hiding the full cheeks that often made him appear younger.   
  
“Holy shit, Eiji,” Ash breathed, his cheeks slightly pink.   
  
“Are these… me?”   
  
“They were made for you,” he said. A rare smile flitted across Ash’s lips, sweet but tinged with a dark sort of curiosity.

 

**\- Prompt: Happy au. Ash helps Eiji to buy his first glasses || 22 February 2019**

* * *

 

This isn't Ash.   
  
It can't be, but Eiji allows himself to find traces of him in the way Blanca is sturdy and grounding, the way he can lean into him and trust that the arms encircling him will support his weight.   
  
It can't be Ash, but the low timbre of Blanca's voice ignites a soft flare of heat in his stomach, familiar in how heavily it sits, unfamiliar in how large, rough hands coax it to spread, to consume.   
  
It can't be Ash, but the teeth grazing his neck remind him of the knife Ash always tucked in his socks. He feels the blood drain from his face, phantoms sending a chill down his spine, but a warm tongue and hot breath marking his skin encourage the blood to pool elsewhere.   
  
It can't be Ash.   
  
Blanca is tangible in a way his beloved wasn't, responsive and demanding in a way that could only be seen on nights where Ash's eyes had burned with unspoken want. Blanca always smelled faintly of gunpowder, of metal and violence and cologne too expensive not to have been paid for in blood.   
  
Blanca was black heat to burn away the ice that had imprisoned desire and affection. He felt something selfish and sensual course through him, thawed from years of things left dormant. He feels far too much -- Blanca's hands, branding his skin; Blanca's mouth, loving and devouring him; Blanca's lust, searing and demanding.   
  
Eiji's eyes flutter closed as he feels his body welcome it, feels himself whimper as his blood burns from pleasure painful in its intensity.   
  
This can't be Ash, but all the same it's his name that falls from his lips as he allows himself to break.

 

**\- Prompt: post-BF Blanca/Eiji || 6 February 2019**

* * *

Ash found it difficult to avert his gaze, even though the sight before him shouldn't require it.   
  
Eiji with an ice cream cone in hand was a sight to behold. New York was sweltering in the summer, and in a fit of pity Ash had thought it wise to suggest they get ice cream from one of the vendors on the street corner. Eiji was all wide eyes and poorly-disguised delight, and it took all of Ash's self-control not to laugh as Eiji veritably shook with joy.   
  
"Vanilla! How did you know it was my favorite?!"   
  
Ash didn't, picking vanilla mainly to avoid any unusual add-ins or flavors, but he liked basking in Eiji's praise; he settled on a knowing smile instead, handing Eiji the cone.   
  
Far too quickly, it began to melt, white rivulets trickling along the side. Far too eagerly, Eiji would swivel his head around the cone, pink tongue flicking out to capture the cream before it dripped to the ground. Far too messily, Eiji licked around the cone, seeming to struggle to enjoy it quickly yet neatly; he seemed to abandon his pride, too enraptured in sweetness and cream to notice how much had begun to smear around his mouth.   
  
"Erm, Eiji..."   
  
Eiji didn't respond, focused on lapping at a suggestive pool of cream that had gathered on his fingers.   
  
"Eiji..."   
  
"Eh?"   
  
"Do you normally have this much trouble eating ice cream?"   
  
Eiji blinked, before seeming to snap out of the stupor that had held him hostage. Ash could almost see him register the stickiness on his fingers and the wetness around his mouth, his face growing pinker beneath the mess.   
  
"Ah! How embarrassing! Let me--"   
  
Ash leaned in, pressing his lips against Eiji's; he suppressed a grin as he felt Eiji melt beneath the contact, trying and failing not to return the kiss. He licked around Eiji's mouth, capturing errant bits of cream before offering it back to him, sweetness on the tip of his tongue.   
  
"Mfff--!"   
  
Eiji's lids had fluttered closed, disinterested in Ash's pretense; Ash felt one of Eiji's hands, still sticky, card through his hair, and found it himself idly wondering how long it would take to get clean.   
  
He captured Eiji's tongue with his own and shivered as he felt Eiji moan against him, deepening the kiss. He knew that Eiji had made him just as messy, mouths smeared with spit and ice cream, hands and hair sticky with the evidence. He found it difficult to care; Eiji's mouth was warm, demanding all of his attention, and Ash was more than willing to comply.

 

**\- Prompt: Ash/Eiji, wet n' messy || 3 February 2019**

* * *

 

The world outside was covered in blinding monochrome, snow and drab rooftops with cracked concrete buried beneath it.   
  
Anya Varishikov treasured dark things, anything to interrupt the harsh, incessant whiteness. Her home was filled with neat clutter -- stacking dolls painted red and gold, rugs woven with every color fiber imaginable, and hand-sown clothing that favored reds and greens to remind her of the summer, so distant in the midst of a Russian winter.   
  
More than anything, however, she treasured the small infant nestled within her arms, nursing sleepily and moments away from slumber.   
  
"Such dark hair, Sergei," she crooned, stroking the infant's forehead gently. "Just like your father's."   
  
The child looked up her blearily, and with a swell of warmth Mrs. Varishikov saw her own eyes gazing up at her, uncomprehending but instinctively trusting.   
  
The fireplace crackled softly in the background, punctuating the low lullaby she sang as Sergei drifted off to sleep.

 

**\- Prompt: Mrs. Varishikov singing lullabies to a smol!Blanca || 12 January 2019**

* * *

 

"Many forget this, but the secret to fluffy, delicious Belgian waffles..."   
  
At this Foxx pauses, looking directly into the camera with a sly smile. The audience loves a cliffhanger, even for something as mundane as recreating his world-renowned Belgian waffles. Foxx is, if nothing, an consummate entertainer, and so he's happy to indulge them.   
  
"... is the finest cream you can find," he finishes, stirring the batter with a flourish before lifting the whisk from the bowl. He's quiet for a moment, eyes seemingly lured in by the batter dripping slowly back into the bowl, viscous and sweet. He trails a finger along the rim, where a few errant droplets had settled, and samples the batter for himself.   
  
"See? Perfect every time," he says. If his voice drops a little too low, just a hair too suggestive, the director says nothing. 

 

**\- Prompt: Chef!AU where Foxx is not an ass and cooks Belgian waffles || 12 January 2019**

**** A/N: I love you, Quin; to this day, this is one of the strangest and most enjoyable prompts I've ever been given to write. ****

* * *

 

Blanca's low, dreamy sighs were like music, stirring something violent and needy within him. He could feel Blanca's cock twitch in warning, grazing the back of his throat.

"Yue -- please \-- I'm \--"

Blanca's voice was quiet, desperate as he strained against impulse. Not without a little disappointment Yue withdrew, though he couldn't help but lap at the slit, salty and tempting, at the last moment. He wrapped thin fingers around Blanca's length, flushed and rigid within his grasp. His fingers were slick with precum as they stroked every inch of him, and he could tell from the small furrow in Blanca's brow that he was close. Yue increased the speed of his strokes, careful to palm the head with every upward motion.

Blanca's release is quiet, almost deafening as the steady chorus of low growls suddenly ceases. Yue, mesmerized, watches as Blanca's lust spills over his chest, dipping lewdly to highlight the musculature.

He can't help himself; Yue leans down, pink tongue flicking outward and drawing one of Blanca's nipples into his mouth, careful  to scoop up the treat that had gathered.

Blanca's eyes are wide as Yue draws back, a lazy smirk on his lips.

"You're pretty tasty, mister," Yue whispers, showing Blanca the lascivious white clinging to his tongue.

 

** \- Prompt: Blanca/Yut-Lung; group chat got wild and I wrote this filth || 25 January 2019**

* * *

 

Ash rolls out of bed, hoping every iota of petty venom he can muster shows in his expression. Eiji’s smile is beatific as he draws the bath, testing its temperature with the tips of his fingers. 

Ash is covered in filth and blood and his entire body is trembling with adrenaline. Eiji doesn’t know where he’s been or what he’s done; Ash’s vacant gaze is at some vantage point miles away. He paces and curses, running his fingers through his hair so roughly that Eiji worries he’ll rip it out.

“Ash, sit.”

Ash’s eyes are wild and violent; his body strains against the directive. Eiji does not budge, meeting Ash’s violence with steel. 

“You do not have to sit next to me. You can sit over there, but you will sit, and you will take a deep breath.”

Ash smolders with something terrifying, mouth twitching with a barely-restrained deluge of curses and rebuttals. Eiji’s stomach churns but he remains silent and unyielding.

Ash snarls under his breath, sitting several feet away and crossing his arms. He sighs — rude, Eiji thinks, but it’s still a deep breath. He’ll accept it.

“Good. Thank you, Ash.”

“Don’t really have a fucking choice, do I?”

“You always have a choice, which is why I’m grateful when you listen.”

He doesn’t close the distance between them, hoping that his voice is able to bridge what feels like a canyon. Ash’s expression softens, his bitterness melting into something closer to self-revulsion.

“You’re right. That wasn’t fair of me. What next?”

“Take two more deep breaths. Really, really good ones — as much as you can take in — and then release slowly.”

Ash frowns but does as he’s told, closing his eyes as his chest slowly rises and falls. 

“What next?”

“If you want to be left alone… take a bath and then go to bed. If you don’t want to be alone, tell me what you need me from me,” Eiji says. 

Ash is quiet, eyes darting between the bedroom door and the small curve of Eiji’s lips, an entreating smile devoid of mockery or amusement. The words he tries to find seem just outside of his grasp.

“Let’s try this instead. I’ll make a statement. If I’m wrong, say nothing. If it’s true, nod your head.”

“You feel angry”.

No response.

“You feel scared.”

Ash’s head drops almost imperceptibly, but intentionally.

“You’re scared because you feel powerless.”

No response.

“You’re scared because you feel too powerful.”

Nod.

“This scares you because it makes you feel… different. Not normal.”

Nod.

“You’re scared that you’ll forget what it’s like to be normal.”

No response.

Eiji’s voice softens.

“You’re scared that  _I’ll_ forget.”

Ash’s eyes are on the verge of tears when he finally looks up, looking away before nodding curtly. 

“You’re scared that I won’t remember anything else.”

“Yes.”

Ash’s voice is barely more than a sullen croak. His face is dry, but his lips are quivering.

“You don’t want me to see you like this. You want me to stay back.”

Ash is silent. Eiji can’t tell if his lack of a response is obedience or defiance.

“You want me to remember. You want me to reassure you that I’m not frightened of you… but you’re too afraid to ask.”

No response, but Ash’s eyes are wide and frightened, torn between reckless honesty and the comfort of a deception.

“Come here, Ash,” he says, patting a spot just in front of him. Ash walks over and slumps down obediently, legs curled under himself.

 

**** \- Prompt: When I was writing for the "order" prompt for the 30-day drabble challenge, I got the idea in my head of Ash and Eiji engaging in a sort of D/s dynamic. I don't see myself ever going any further with the concept, but this scrap resulted from it. || 30 December 2018 ** **

* * *

 


End file.
